Aside from trolling for gratitude everyday–making sure I’m noticing even the tiniest good thing going on in my life, I think it’s useful to take time to really think about what makes you feel the kind of unadulterated happiness that gives you rosy cheeks and makes you reflexively smile. And then of course, to try to get more of that stuff in your life, even if you have to wedge it in there like a size 8 foot into a size 6 shoe. I don’t care if it fits, it seems worth it to focus on how to make more happy, right? Doesn’t it?
I realized recently that I can feel guilty when I plan things that are purely fun, like fun is a some sort of drug runner crime. If you asked me if this was true, a couple of months ago, I WOULD HAVE LAUGHED AN INCH FROM YOUR NOSE. But after thinking about it, I realize it’s kind of surprisingly true. I’m not sure where this came from, and I assure you it doesn’t exactly stop me from doing fun things, but I wonder why I can’t just feel an unfettered glee, instead of like I’m committing a child-caught-with-her-hand-in-the-cookie-jar indescretion.
Is having fun a guilt inducer, unless it’s completely organic and happens because of unplanned circumstances? Is planned fun, which often can take you away from the essential shit you gotta get done, inherently bad? Have I not had enough therapy?
I’m grateful to have recognized this, because just by pulling it out into the light, I think I can evict it, and make more time for scheduled F. U.N. Bring on the dance music.